


Between the Worlds

by electricteatime



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Gen, M/M, Other, Surrealism, mild body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 19:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11424945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricteatime/pseuds/electricteatime
Summary: Derek follows Stiles' spirit into another realm to bring him back to his body, it isn't as simple as he expected it to be.A gift for vyrenia as part of the stereksummerexchange17





	Between the Worlds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vyrenia](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=vyrenia).



> So I'm pretty sure this isn't at all what you were expecting but I tried so many times to go the traditional ghost route and my brain just wasn't having it so we ended up here instead. I hope you enjoy it anyway and I'm really sorry if it's not what you were hoping for.

“Deaton said he should only be out for an hour at most,” Scott says with a frown, looking over at where Stiles is lying flat out on top of the nemeton. It’s unnerving really, his heartbeat is so slow he has to strain to hear it and there’s no real way to be sure he’s even taking any breaths. By all accounts he looks dead and it’s making Derek nervous just to look at him. 

“Alright, so what should we do?” he’s anxious, has been since they devised this whole plan had it shows in his voice. Stiles had insisted that there wasn’t any other way to stop the witch from taking children from their world than trapping her in hers; Derek had been all for ripping out her throat and seeing how she managed then. Hours of research later they’d found themselves in the middle of the forest with the rest of their pack, painting strange symbols into the tree stump under Stiles’ instruction. Her world was just a little out of sync with theirs, something she could slip through quite easily as practised with her magic as she was but they’d found out the hard way (being blasted back six feet into a concrete wall) that they couldn’t get through the same way. The witch, Deaton had said, had a focus on spiritual magic and the only way to get to her was spiritually. Derek didn’t know exactly what it was that Stiles was doing, he’d mentioned something about astral projection and out of body experiences while he’d been trying to reassure him but a lot of it had gone over his head. Suffice to say Derek was not happy with the current situation and he was becoming less and less happy as time went on. 

“We need to send someone in after him,” Scott looks at his watch and frowns. “He’s only got another twenty minutes before it gets dangerous. He shouldn’t have been gone this long and if he’s stuck we won’t know until it’s too late.”

This was exactly why Derek hated magic, or at least this particular kind of magic. There were some things Stiles does that he can grudgingly admit are useful, or even kind of nice but this is neither of those things and even just the smell of it in the air makes him want to itch right out of his skin. He looks at Stiles, pale and lifeless and grits his teeth. He isn’t going to lose someone else he loves, not when this thing of theirs was so new and full of promise. 

“Fine. How do we do it?” he knows he doesn’t sound at all enthusiastic but Scott nods anyway, holding up his claws. 

“Same way we do most thing like this, right?” his smile is worried around the edges but knowing that they at least have some kind of plan makes him feel marginally better. “Stiles said this should work if we needed to and how often is he wrong?”

“More often than I’d like,” Derek grumbles, but moves to lie next to him on the tree stump anyway. He’d curse it out if he wasn’t so sure it would mess this up just for revenge. 

“You ready?” Scott asks, Derek can feel his claws against his neck and braces himself, taking hold of Stiles’ hand. 

“Just do it.” Scott presses his claws in. The pain is excruciating but brief, he loses sight of the forest to the darkness behind his eyes and feels the bottom drop out of his stomach as he falls.

*

He wakes up standing in a corridor lined with doors. It’s reminiscent of a hotel in that all the doors are identical in the low light, not an ounce of natural lighting creeps in even from under the doors and each one is numbered in polished gold that stands out against the dark grain. Derek turns, they stretch out behind him too but when he tries to take a step that way his feet won’t move. As aware of the time limit as he is there’s a need to know about the situation he’s in, it’s obvious that safety isn’t really an option but awareness is and he thinks he’d feel less unnerved by this entire situation if he has some idea what was going on. Casting a quick look around, as if anyone is going to be watching, he turns the handle of the first door on his right. 

It opens to a scene he’s terribly familiar with, mostly replayed in nightmares and he stands frozen in the doorway, moonlight spilling out of the large windows and across the water on the floor. There’s a moment where it’s all he can do to stand and watch, heart thundering in his ears because he knows what comes next but he manages to will himself into action. The door slams shut before he can see Boyd lowered onto his claws. 

He’s breathing far too heavily in the small space of the corridor and all he can think is that he needs to get out. Derek moves in the only direction he seems able to, stumbling forward to some unknown destination armed with only the knowledge that he needs to find Stiles and fast. There’s only one door that gives him pause, slightly charred just at the edges and if he listens hard enough he can almost hear the screams, smell the smoke. He moves on without touching it. 

The corridor is getting dizzily long and it almost makes him laugh that there are this many doors, this many times death has touched his life even in the smallest of ways. Derek wonders if he’s the right person to be doing this if he can’t even get out of the corridor. Eventually he runs into a door that sits at the end of the hallway, there’s light pouring out from under the edges of this one and as suspicious as he is he only hesitates for a moment before opening it, knowing that so much rests on him getting to Stiles in time. 

The first thing that hits him is the light, white and blinding enough that for a moment he can’t see to work out where he is. When it fades down he realises with some confusion that he’s standing in the forest. By all accounts it looks the same as their forest, but Derek knows those woods too well and there’s something wrong. It’s too quiet, too peaceful and while he’s always found the woods peaceful this is a different kind; unnatural and unnerving. The door is gone when he turns back, just more miles of trees stretching out as far as he can see and he comes to the realisation that Stiles is somewhere in here. That there’s only really one place to look for him. 

Finding the nemeton is tricky, even in whatever unreality he’s found himself in the old stump doesn’t seem to want to be found. He walks in circles for what feels like hours, who knows how time works here, before he sees it off in the distance. Stiles is a familiar sight to him but he still looks out of place here, bright plaid and converse standing out against the muted backdrop of the forest. Derek starts towards him immediately but it doesn’t take long to realise that Stiles isn’t alone. 

Sat atop the nemeton with him is a woman. She’s young with dark hair and swathed in white, her cheeks are rosy and as he gets closer he can start to make out the moles dotted across her skin. Something in Derek’s stomach tightens at the sight of her laughing and talking with Stiles, a prickling under his skin which he’s come to associate with something being very wrong. It doesn’t take too long to reach them but he just stands there, palms sweating and throat tight as he tries to work out what to say to get the attention of the two who haven’t yet noticed him. 

“Stiles,” is what he ends up with, vice sounding overly cautious and immediately t pulls some of the tension back into Stiles’ shoulders as he turns towards him. 

“Derek?” he sounds confused, the remainders of his laughter lingering on his face. “What are you doing here?” there’s something not quite right about Stiles either, he thinks. His eyes are too glassy, almost far away and he wonders not for the first time if they’re both in way over their heads. 

“I’m here to bring you back. Scott sent me, you’ve been gone too long and you need to wake up.” There’s little room for argument in his tone but he watches as Stiles frowns, casting a glance back to the woman who is yet to say a word. 

“I don’t want to go anywhere,” and it’s clear from his voice that he’s either unaware of the situation or he doesn’t remember how he got here. Before Derek can get a chance to speak though the woman finally speaks up. 

“He wants to stay with me. Isn’t that right, darling?” By all means her words should be comforting but Derek can hear the tension in her voice, see the edge in her smile and it makes him want to grab Stiles and run. 

“I want to stay here, Derek. Haven’t you noticed how quiet it is? And my mom…” he trails off to look at her, clearly seeing something softer than what Derek can. 

“I promised I wouldn’t leave him again,” her words seem to make Stiles relax as she strokes her fingers down his cheek. 

“See?” Stiles is smiling up at her in a way he’s never seen. “Yours are here too you know? Your family.”

The words hit him right in the chest, stealing his breath and he wants to ask _where?_ And _how can I find them?_ But he’s here for a reason and he steels himself against it, voice gritty when he says, “Stiles, my family are dead.”

It seems to shake something in the younger man, something clearer in his eyes when he frowns but it disappears when he shakes his head. 

“Well, _duh_.” He says, sounding incredibly unimpressed with Derek’s grasp on the situation, or lack thereof. “So is my mom, or at least she is back there. But she’s here, they’re all here and we can be here too. We can stay with them.” He sounds a little desperate, eyes wide like he’s imploring Derek to believe him. There’s a part of Derek that wants to, the part that has always believed he would give anything just to get his family back but he knows that they’re gone now, that he has a life and a future with a new family he found for himself and that those are the people who are relying on him to get Stiles home with them. He won’t sacrifice his new family for one that would want him to have moved on, and he certainly won’t sacrifice Stiles. 

“That is not your mother.” It’s solid, with as much conviction as he can manage and he watches as both of their smiles falter at the same time.

“What are you talking about? Of course it is. She knows my favorite food, what my first words are. She has a mole in the shape of a heart just below her elbow. I know my mother and this is her,” Stiles is starting to sound like he’s trying to convince himself more than anything. Derek sees his way in and takes it. 

“I know you want to believe that and I really don’t blame you. I know what it’s like to lose someone you love so much but Stiles just look at her, really look. How old was she when she died? Does she look like she’s aged at all? Where are her scars? We talked about it remember? On the anniversary of the fire and you told me all about her to make me feel less alone. You told me she was always bruised up from the needles, that she looked so tired all the time. Where is all that? Don’t you think she looks a little too perfect? Don’t you think everything about this place does?” He was going for convincing but ended up desperate and he feels like if he can’t get Stiles to see right now he’s not going to manage it at all. 

“That’s…” he looks upset, Derek can’t fault him for that, but he looks confused too and he turns back to the woman who looks like his mother who is glaring at Derek in a way that can only be described as murderous. The expression seems to break whatever spell Stiles was under and he scrambles back away from her, standing up off the tree stump. “What the fuck. Derek, what the _fuck_?” 

Derek doesn’t get time to answer before she’s advancing on them growing taller with every step, face morphing out of the one it had stolen and into something much more grotesque. Her fingers elongate to needle-sharp points as the stumble back away from her, unable to tear their eyes away to turn and run. Her teeth grow and multiply, yellowing with age as her eyes start to burn with green fire, tipping back her head to emit a piercing shriek that shakes the trees around them, landscape losing its color until everything looks starved and decaying. 

They drop to the ground, covering their ears against the noise but Derek grits his teeth against it because they need to act. 

“Stiles!” he calls over the sound, catching the others attention. “Whatever it is you came here to do you need to do it _now_.” The only expression on his face is panic for a moment, the same kind of uncertainty Derek has seen on him many times but it only lasts a second before it’s replaced with the steely resolve he gets before doing anything he deems unpleasant. 

Stiles pulls himself back to his feet, closing his eyes in an attempt to focus himself and call upon whatever it is that gives him power. The chanting starts low, the only way Derek even knows he’s doing it is because he can see his mouth moving but it grows in volume as he goes on until it’s almost drowning out her shrieking. Derek still has his ears covered against the noise but it makes little difference when the woman screams.

“No!” it’s too late though, whatever Stiles is doing is already taking effect. She’s slowing, shrinking down and looking almost like she’s planting herself into the remains of the forest floor like a tree. She gnashes her teeth at them, lips pulled back in a snarl but then Stiles is shouting something in a language he doesn’t recognise and he feels himself being pulled back violently. 

*

They wake up gasping for breath, both feeling very much like they’d been held under water for a long time. He can hear the relief of their pack standing around them, the puncture wounds from Scott’s claws beginning to heal over sluggishly the way wounds from an alpha always do. All his focus is on Stiles though, who looks wide eyed and lost with tears shining on his cheeks under the moonlight. Derek pulls him in, letting him tuck his head underneath his chin the way he does after nightmares, holding him close and murmuring softly to him. 

Scott gives him a look and he answers it with one of his own, telling him that they’re safe and he’ll explain later. It’s enough for the alpha who brushes his fingers across Stiles’ back before moving away with the others to give them some space. 

“She was there,” Stiles whispers into his skin. “I thought… I’m an idiot,” his laugh is self-depreciating and has the tell-tale wetness of unshed tears. 

“You’re not an idiot,” he chastises gently. “She gave you what you wanted, what anyone would want in that situation. It’s understandable; anyone would have fallen for it.”

“You didn’t.” The bitterness is evident in his voice and Derek sighs, reaching up to card his fingers through Stiles’ hair. 

“I didn’t,” he agrees. “But I only didn’t because I was focused on you. You’re my anchor in more ways than one you know? Besides, your eyes never get that glassy unless you’ve forgotten to take your medication and I watched you take them this morning,” he smiles, rewarded with a small smile in return when Stiles tilts his head to look up at him.

“Can we go home?” he sounds as tired as Derek feels and he presses a sympathetic kiss to his forehead. 

“Sure. We’ll have to explain all this but we can do that tomorrow. Do you want me to stay at yours tonight?” It is a school night after all, and the one thing the Sheriff had been firm on was that Stiles couldn’t stay with him on a school night. Even so, he was reluctant to leave him. 

“You know you’ll have to sleep on the couch,” they stand slowly, still a little unbalanced as they start their trek out of the forest. 

“I don’t mind,” he doesn’t think the Sheriff will either, not when he sees the two of them, especially if he looks anywhere near half as bad as Stiles does. 

“Stay over then. You can make me pancakes in the morning, you know, for saving the day and all.” Derek sighs heavily but it’s put on, his smile gives him away. 

“Alright. Pancakes in the morning, but for now let’s just get some sleep.”


End file.
